


It had been a Djinn dream...

by Scat3375



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Djinni & Genies, Drinking, Emotionally Hurt Dean Winchester, Episode Fix-It: s15e20 Carry On, M/M, Minor Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester, Post-Canon Fix-It
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-16
Updated: 2021-01-16
Packaged: 2021-03-14 10:40:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28794072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scat3375/pseuds/Scat3375
Summary: It was all a Djinn dream, albeit one 12 years out of date.AKA: an attempt to explain why the final episode seemed so detached from the rest
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 4
Kudos: 48





	It had been a Djinn dream...

**Author's Note:**

> Like everyone else I have been drawn to publish a fic for the first time in the hope that it might help others with their processing of the utterly terrible (aside from Cas being alive again) finale. And to help myself with this too.  
> It seemed to me that Dean spent most of S15E19 looking like he was trying to process what had happened with Cas. Also, though I can't bring myself to rewatch to check, I thought I saw THE hand print coat in Baby's boot in S15E20 when they got the weapons out. I haven't seen anyone else mention this though. If so, it at least shows Dean still cared deeply about Cas.
> 
> I am not a natural writer but I hope that my words and thoughts might help someone despite this.
> 
> All the usual disclaimers apply: I don't own the characters, and I make no profit from posting this.

It had been a Djinn dream. Dean remembered that now. Of course at the time it had felt so real, even with the strange golden glow thrown over it, and the immediate events that had preceded it had vanished from his mind.  
It had all rushed back though in that moment between sleep and wakefulness, as Sam had plunged the dagger through the abhorrent creature's heart, bringing with it his yearning. And his despair.

Even days later, he remained stunned by what the dream had shown him. It had been neither his heart's desire nor his worst fears.  
Closer to the first perhaps, but only just. This would possibly have been his ultimate happiness twelve maybe even ten years ago. Possibly. But not now. Not with everything and everyone those years had given him. For if he was honest, and this was something he had finally had a chance to work on since Chuck's defeat, a certain angel would play a far more central role in any of his desires or fears than anyone else would now. Cas, his angel, his best friend.

Maybe it had been difficult for the Djinn to access this when one of his greatest fears and one of his greatest hopes had been fulfilled at the same time just weeks before.

....

He had been truly stunned in that surreal moment. His only thought had been of wanting to stop Cas from making the sacrifice. Wanting to stop Cas from leaving, like he had failed to do mere months before. To stop Cas from leaving him.

It had been difficult to feel anything but despair in the immediate aftermath before the needs of the world, a world that Cas had known he loved, took over.   
He recalled feeling so sure that Chuck would agree to their Cain and Abel deal, so sure that he would get Cas back, that he hadn't even been able to process the complete devastation that hit with Chuck's refusal.   
Of course, there has also been the total certainty, with their success and Jack's resurrection of the world, that he would be greeted by a familiar and wonderful voice saying 'Hello Dean' when they arrived back at the bunker. Such certainty allowed no time for upset, no time for contemplation. 

Indeed it was only when his and Sam's quiet celebration of their freedom, sitting arm in arm in the library, was broken by a call from Eileen, that Dean realised that what should have happened had not done so.  
An observer would likely have commented on the contrast of increasing elation of one brother's face, whilst a dawning horror fell on the other's. But Dean hadn't been in any position for perspective at the time, and all he saw was both him and Sam overwhelmed by tears.

He recalled Sam, ever the attentive brother, noticing that Dean's tears weren't like his, weren't tears of joy, and rushing to his side. He was unsure how long he remained inconsolable for, aside from it being long enough to allow for Eileen's arrival and the sun to set. All he remembered was the pain in his heart eventually quieting enough for him to talk, him to explain, him to turn his brother's own tears from joy to pain.

When the haze had cleared, they had been left with a world where hunts were still required and where their new God, Jack, stuck to his vow not to interfere, demonstrated by a complete lack of response to their countless increasingly desperate prayers. And crucially a world where there was no Cas. 

Dean had tried his best to be warmed by his best friend's sacrifice, and by the newfound certainty of self that his declaration had given him, over the subsequent weeks. He had tried desperately to keep the joy, the image of his angel's blissful face at the moment of his demise, in his heart from being overwhelmed by the pain. It had largely worked. He had been able to enjoy pie festivals and their new dog Miracle, he truly had. He had kept the coat with Cas' handprint, Cas' blood on it under his pillow when he was at home, and nestled in his Baby's trunk when they were out. Keeping the feeling close, keeping Cas close, even as they weaponed up to enter that barn.

...

Unfortunately, when faced with the aftermath of a Djinn dream that had barely featured his best friend, his strategies had failed. The deep longing that had always been there under the surface had returned, had blossomed, bringing with it the devastation that it was now coupled with. 

He wished partly that he and Sam had never started that 'Vamp-mime' hunt leading them to that barn where the Djinn had resided. Certainly, he knew he would never hunt again, seeing the pathetic death that the dream had brought. Equally though, he knew that something would have broken him eventually and forced him to process his feelings.

It was this processing that he was now having to do. Days and nights of thinking and sobbing, of drinking and despairing. Aware of the hushed concerned conversations happening just outside his hearing range between Sam and his now fiancee Eileen (loss and return had a habit of accelerating relationships) but not really caring.

Dean found himself stuck in limbo. He feared a future life without Cas, but equally knew that death, even if he ended up in the Empty, held no guarantee of having Cas return to him. 

At one point he thought that the only resolution would be him slowly drinking himself to death. Certainly he suspected that Sam and Eileen's conversations were centered around this very possibility.

In actuality, the resolution came far quicker than that.

...

It was in a moment of rare lucidity one sleepless night that Dean's mind turned to the root of his distress. 

He had been aware that it was not solely about the loss of his best friend, but hadn't dared or been able to delve deeper in to this before. The pain had been too overwhelming. However, in this moment the pain had dimmed and Cas' words had come back to him.

'The one thing I want is something I know I can't have' and 'I love you', couldn't be interpreted in any other way. Cas had loved him romantically. Cas had desired him. Dean had failed to comprehend the true implications of this. Cas had believed that his feelings would never be returned, yet had felt truly happy at just being able to express them. So little had caused his angel such blissful joy. 

Dean had honestly never before thought that Cas could feel romantic feelings as an angel up until that point, and had been stubbornly ignoring what had distressed him most. Until now.

He was mourning. 

Mourning for his best friend yes, but also the possibilities that their future lives could have held and the countless missed opportunities in their past to let his angel know how wrong he had been. 

Dean was mourning for the nights they should have had snuggled up, or otherwise, in bed and the lazy morning kisses and cuddles and comfort that should come after. 

He was mourning the feeling of home and contentedness and absolute unconditional love that he could be receiving and more crucially mourning the lost opportunties of giving the same back in return. 

He was mourning not just Cas but the unique feeling that he had brought with him. Knowing that his feelings, his love and devotion, were returned so absolutely, and that he could have acted at any time on his constant desire to kiss that familiar permanently perplexed face, was agonising. He had never before seen that truth in 'only love can break your heart'.

It was with this thought that the gloomy darkness in his room lifted and Jack appeared smiling.

"Finally Dean, finally" he exclaimed. "Castiel in all his stubbornness has been refusing to come down from heaven for fear of 'making things awkward'. I was certain that he wouldn't but I had to wait for the proof, and finally I have it".

"Jack?" was all Dean managed to croak out, scrabbling to sit himself up in his bed, before the boy disappeared. 

In his place appeared a pair of unmistakeable sapphire eyes and a face holding a now familiar look of utter bliss, and finally the sound he had been waiting for came.

"Hello Dean".

And for the first time in his life Dean felt only joy.   
His heart was finally at peace.


End file.
